Let me call to my generation and ask that you wake up from your slumber

Disconnect from your instagram, from your facebook, twitter or your tumblr

Stop pretending that you are living, instead own your state of merely breathing

This is all life has to offer is a lie we undoubtedly continue believing

With terror to remain within the flesh of your being

Open your eyes, this is a falsely created “perfection” that you are seeing

Self-hatred is taught, as we scream within our souls for the breaking of these chains

Yet our perception of one another allows this corruption to still remain

We tell our sisters to act like a lady and think like a man

Tainting beauty in its purest form proceeds to be relevant in the world’s plan

We convince young girls to play with dolls that have a physical image that is not even real

As the unattainable standard they must reach begins to be revealed

Do not talk back, play alongside the boys, or be too opinionated or your femininity will be at risk

Because the boys, well they just may not like you, think of all of the opportunities that will be missed!
Hide your strength and be submissive to every boy disguised as a man that orders that from you

Afterall, the desire for a woman of your “type” may then be reserved for just a few

Love your body, embrace your curves, think highly of your skin

Just kidding, self-righteousness and over-confidence is most certainly a sin

So sit back in your chair, as the world flashes before your eyes

Don’t let them see that teardrop fall down your cheek because it is yourself that you despise

And men

Stand up where you are

Reaching safety from unreachable worth is much too far

Man up, provide, don’t you ever break

Once they see the release of emotion it is your masculinity they will first take

What crosses a woman’s lips about your character carries more significance that you do

Every lady will know of the chance that you single handedly blew

Expected to be a slave to sex and crave nothing less

When in the end you lay beneath the covers with this unshakable mess

You took her, you broke her, you played her like she was a game

When your shattered soul and deprivation of a voice will invisibly remain

Boys will be boys

But when will we believe in their future as more than treating women like toys

My generation, wake up!

We have become a slave to religion and call it our Lord

But let me tell you it has come at a cost, and a relationship is no longer what we can afford

We paint a picture to the world that God is a God of hate

But this merciless mentality is something He did not create

There are holes in his church because some brokenness creates a mess we are too afraid to put back together

Our acceptance and love for one another changes as swiftly as the weather

We act as though the word has died

Always begging for it to come alive

But let me ask you, why did a man die on a cross for men that will continue to nail Him back onto it?

It is as if we believe that somehow with enough sins that have passed, surely He is bound to quit

We live in a generation where we would rather fool the world into believing we hold perfection

Than to let them see the depth of our entities that need correction

As if our faces are now masks that can hold within them all that we wish to go unseen

Yet the world will never know how often even the saved need to be wiped clean

My generation, I beg of you to awaken

We are controlled by routine and the American dream

How when the wires of our phone, computer, and ipods go out suddenly the wires in our mind with follow

How we enter a facility of education yet somehow our minds leave hollow

Because we constantly search for something more than what is before us, beneath us, and within us

Yet when the thought of taking a risk, breaking tradition, or shifting social norm comes to surface suddenly fear errups

We push away creative minds and elevate efficiency

Because in a world like ours we turn away from anything taking the form of complexity

We do not tolerate dreams that will not fulfill our obsession with money

Pushing away the passions of children as if they are unrealistic, even funny

But I do not find humor in telling a child he or she will forever be a slave to a nine to five job that creates misery in his veins

I do not find humor in ripping apart imagination as a desire to find usefulness is all that remains

Because we are born with significance

If we were just to give our lungs a chance

We could breath again, see again, believe again

As joyfulness and life-satisfaction does not have to be something we pretend

My generation, wake up, i plead you to do so

Let the amplitude of our voices begin to grow

We can be louder than the lies being screamed into our ears

But I urge you, generation, together we can relinquish our fears